


Pisces

by yeaka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Merpeople, Useless, merfolk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Yuuri skates when there’s no one around to see, but this night, someone does.





	1. Iris

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: New to the YOI fandom so I’m not sure if this has been done, but oh well. I might add more to it? Maybe? (Fair warning I have zero ice skating knowledge.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri on Ice or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He waits until it’s dark out, until the stars are clear on the horizon, lighting the frozen lake up in an ephemeral blue. By now, his little village seems to sleep, and no one else drifts about the open lakeside park anymore. There’s no one to see amidst the snow-laden grass that rolls into the town on one side, up into mountains on the other. The air is crisp and clear.

It gives Yuuri a chance to skate alone. Even though he has family that would come, maybe even a friend or two, he likes it better this way—no one around to see. He keeps telling himself he’ll _stop_ , that he’ll go to the rink like a normal person or share the daylight with his neighbours. But for now, for what he tells himself is the last time, he enjoys himself: it takes the pressure off, and he can glide onto the ice without wondering if he looks too heavy or slow. Maybe he would like _someone_ there for company, but every one he’s ever met just makes him feel more self-conscious. So he makes do in solitude, with his parka and glasses piled over on a bench.

He warms up with a languid circle, then sets in to really _practice_. He speeds around the next curve to make his first jump. He lands in perfect form, half imagining the applause of a crowd, and half grateful for the silence. On the next jump, he ups the difficulty, always unsure whether these special visits are for training or for pleasure. He does _like_ this. But maybe it could be _more_ , and maybe then he could leave this little valley and find someone who inspires him as much as this sport, someone he wouldn’t mind performing for. He catches himself slacking again, lost in idle daydreams.

With determination, Yuuri slips into an old routine he choreographed two winters ago, one that requires concentration as much for style as tricks. While the familiar song strikes up inside his mind, Yuuri dances, hitting every beat with some new move or flourish. It’s easy to fall into, and the nonexistent music soon hammers over the satisfying grind of his blades against the ice and the whip of the wind against him. He doesn’t even realize how hard he’s gone into it until he’s cutting a sharp turn into the final pose, where the music would peak and end. 

He stands there, panting, locked into it, and finally lets his out-of-focus gaze come back into the world around him: all whites and varying shades of blue. 

A flicker of peach catches his eye, and his head shifts down, scanning the ice before him. It’s thick enough for this, nearly opaque and frosted around the edges, except for a translucent grey circle near the shore, the one on the far side from the village. Two broad strokes send Yuuri close enough to see down into it, and then he pauses anew, his heart leaping into his throat.

There’s someone _down there._ For one horrible second, Yuuri thinks someone’s somehow fallen below and gotten trapped, except the handsome face that peers up through the ice dons a wide smile at seeing him. Silver hair floats around the stranger’s head, covering one eye, reaching far down into the depths. The figure, as far as Yuuri can see, is utterly naked, _gorgeous_ : a taut, lightly-muscled man with such vivid colours that they shine right through the ice, and when that man tilts back, Yuuri’s eyes trail down to the crotch that thrusts forward—covered entirely in _scales_.

A long, serpentine tail flicks out, and Yuuri has a fleeting moment of dizziness—the sort of thing that happens when one comes across something so wholly out of sync with their reality. Of course he knew the local legends spoke of merfolk in the lake—graceful, enchanting beings of striking beauty, which this creature _is_ —but he never _believed them_.

He briefly considers that he needs to get glasses with a much higher prescription and never take them off again. He’s got to be seeing things. Either that, or he fell somewhere along the way, hit his head on the ice, and is now dreaming of half-naked, absurdly attractive men swooping in to save him from his own loneliness.

The merman looks at Yuuri only a moment longer. In reality, the entire revelation’s probably only lasted a minute. Then the man lifts his hands and gives Yuuri an exaggerated ‘thumbs up’ motion. Yuuri’s too numb to mirror it. He wonders if the signal is a response to his skating. 

Then the merman blows an air-kiss and suddenly darts off, disappearing from the one visible patch in a swirl of flashing silver. He leaves just stray bubbles and an unobtrusive darkness behind. 

Yuuri drops to his knees, barely pausing to wince when his jeans scrape the ice. He peers down into the almost-hole, but there’s nothing to see. The vision’s gone. 

And there’s nothing for it but to come back again and skate the very best he can, in the hopes that vision will return.


	2. Duck

Yuuri skates every night without fail, but his routines only suffer for the practice: he spends too much time staring down at the wide expanse beneath his feet. The lake is always marred with the many cuts of other blades, and more than half might be from Yuuri alone. He stays until exhaustion dictates otherwise, and then he tries it all again the next night. 

He comes even when paper signs are stapled to the telephone polls amidst the park, warning in thick black letters that the ice is thin. It must be new. His mind tells him to turn back and try again tomorrow, but his heart tugs him forward, and he cautiously steps onto the lake anyway. It’s seems sturdy, as thick as ever, opaque and only scratched superficially on the very surface. He holds his breath as he makes his way to the other side, scanning the ice harder than ever, but he sees no signs of trouble, and he knows it’s been as cold today as it has been all week. When he finally reaches the other side, he peels off his jacket and glasses, placing them near the place where he first saw his spectator. If he could skate without his glasses falling off, he would, but he knows he’d only break them. He knows he probably shouldn’t be doing this alone. But he also doesn’t have anyone he could ask to come with him, and he _never_ takes risks—that’s how he justifies it: because this is the one thing he’ll gamble on. 

Down to just his tight trousers and black turtleneck, Yuuri leaves the shore. He does a few basic moves to warm up, then begins to string them together, imitating the first place routine of last year’s Grand Prix. He does want to start choreographing his own, but it never comes as easily to him as simply flowing into an existing program does. He wonders vaguely if the merman’s seen this routine before. There have to be others in his village who try to copy the greats. Then he wonders if there are others doing it _better_ than him, and it makes his stomach churn. He starts to shake, missing a jump. But then, the merman gave him a thumbs up. But of course, for all he knows, merfolk don’t understand a lick of what humans say or do, and it was just like a parrot mimicking its owner...

He’s so lost in his reverie, swept away in memories of the merman, that he doesn’t notice the sickening crunch below him until it’s too late. A sliver runs along the ice beside him, cracking in an instant, and barely a heartbeat later, it’s shattering all around him.

Yuuri’s ankle isn’t even given time to twist—everything beneath him gives way, and he plummets straight down, even as he lurches forward and tries to grab the ice—but that’s breaking too. His elbow bashes into a flat plate, and his gloves claw at the rest, but it’s all sinking into the freezing water that envelops him one meter at a time. For that first second, his body’s in too much shock to even feel the cold. He thrashes on pure instinct, panicking, hating himself more than ever—this was _so_ stupid, he knew he shouldn’t have come, but it’s oddly fitting that he’d drown in ice, and he knows that’s how it’s going to end—

Something locks around his waist, and completely irrational fears of sharks or lake monsters leap in with the rest. He tilts his head back to take his last gulp of air before he’s sucked under—except that he’s bobbed up again right after, where he can gasp in more.

Then he’s hauled forward, jerked by the middle, while his feet kick uselessly out and his arms try to wade. He can’t see anything of the ice anymore, just the night sky and the starlit silhouette of the mountains. He’s pushed right through it, then suddenly hauled up and tossed forward—Yuuri hits fresh snow.

Curling up on his side, he doesn’t even have the wherewithal to climb away from the water. His legs are pushed out of it for him, while he splutters and spits out lake water. His entire body is prickling, frozen to the core, and the crisp night air isn’t much of a relief. 

“That was stupid,” A lilting voice tells him, thick with some foreign accent that Yuuri’s reeling brain can’t recognize. When he’s recovered enough to move his body again, he looks back over his shoulder.

The merman, the same gorgeous, mesmerizing figure he saw before, is peering out from the gaping hole in the ice. His head rests on his arms, folded on the shore, the gossamer-like ends of his silver tail peeking out of the water just behind him. In a daze, Yuuri realizes that the merman _saved him._

And then his ears stop buzzing, and he works out what the merman said, and all he can do is blush and will his heart to stop racing. The adrenaline’s still gripping him, but this makes it worse. The merman points off to the side, and Yuuri looks over, spotting his jacket and glasses just within arm’s reach. He pulls both to him, tossing the jacket around his shaking shoulders, and whips the glasses on. He half expects the merman to disappear once proper vision’s restored.

Instead, he only comes reeling into focus. The long, well-defined lines of his face and the bright glow of his eyes make him all the more attractive. His upper body’s only a little paler than Yuuri’s despite the cold he swims in, and his arms show the toned lines of taut muscles. His silver hair looks like the softest thing Yuuri’s ever seen.

Caught in that haze of beauty, Yuuri finds himself goofily admitting, “I... just wanted to see you again.”

“Of course you did,” the merman says, smiling self-indulgently, evidently not short on confidence. “But that’s no excuse for being stupid.”

Yuuri somehow says, “Sorry,” even though he’s the one that fell. Maybe he means sorry for having to carry his heavy weight out of the water.

The merman doesn’t even acknowledge that, instead chirping, “Victor, by the way. Now you’ve met me as well as seen me: lucky you.”

Blushing hotter, Yuuri mumbles, “Yuuri.” And then he sneezes, and his teeth start chattering so badly that it’s a wonder he managed any words at all.

At the sharp sound, the playful grin slips right off Victor’s face. Instead, he tells Yuuri sternly, “You need to go home and warm up, or you’ll get sick. This water’s deathly cold.”

Yuuri nods, because another sneeze is coming and that prohibits him from talking. When it’s finished, he asks, “What about you...?” Victor lifts a pallid eyebrow, and Yuuri feels stupid all over again—of course Victor must be fine in the water; he _lives_ there. He has to. Yuuri’s sure he would’ve heard if a merman lived in any of the local houses. He covers it with an even more embarrassing: “But if I can’t skate here, I... I do want to see you again...”

The smile melts onto Victor’s striking features. “You will,” Victor tells him. “I couldn’t get away from this cold right now if I wanted to; I’m trapped under, and the river’s impossible like this. But I like to come up sometimes and watch the skating.” Yuuri can feel his cheeks tingling; all the blood the ice scared out of his skin seems to seep there instead. Then Victor makes it worse by telling him enthusiastically, “Yours needs _a lot_ of work, but it’s still the best I’ve ever seen here.”

The dual insult and compliment rage in Yuuri’s head, making him horribly pleased right through his deprecating shame. He finally grits out, “Thanks.” He wants to ask what Victor liked and what he needs to improve, but it’s getting to be too much. He can’t take the cold anymore. It worries him when he realizes he can’t feel his toes, and he blurts, “I better get back to the hot springs.”

A look of awe comes over Victor’s eyes, and he leans forward, dragging glistening hair over the ice, to ask, “Hot springs?” 

But Yuuri sneezes again, and Victor becomes a strict statue, insisting, “Go, now.”

Despite everything, Yuuri nods and pushes up onto his feet. He’s not even sure he can get his skates off yet, so he plods around the lake as it is, the snow eating the blades anyway, and the boots he came in forgotten in the park.


	3. Ivy

It was particularly cold during the day, and he spent it curled up in blankets, sneezing and shaking. Even recovered from his fall, the memory still clings to him. But when the night falls, he still bundles up for the great outdoors, and he takes his skates in hand. The ice will be thick enough again, though he’d probably still be too fearful to go if not for that extra lifeline—now he knows that even if the ice does break, there’ll be someone to save him.

At least, he hopes there will. He tells himself that he’s trudging through the frigid snow because he’s always loved to skate, but he knows that he just wants to see _Victor_ again.

He’s almost disappointed when he arrives to find the lake wholly frozen over, just as expected—the hole he created seems long gone. As soon as he’s got his skates on, he’s sliding over to it anyway. The distinctive shadow that Victor once peered up through is barely visible. It gives him a swell of sadness, not just because they won’t be able to talk, but because Victor won’t be able to watch much of his skating, other than as a vague blur from underneath. He still wants to hear what the ‘a lot’ was he has to work on. For the approval of a merman, he’d be more than willing to try.

On his own, he kicks off, and tries to let the familiar feelings take him. He throws himself into his movements, fighting back the cold with action. When he’s working hard enough, it actually becomes pleasant to feel the cool wind against his face. He revels in that and begins a series of complex jumps—even if Victor can’t see the intricacies, he wants Victor to know he’s _trying_. He hopes Victor sees his shadow leaving the ice, lingering long in the air, and swooping down again in perfect form to dance instantly aside. 

The thought of Victor fuels him. He pictures Victor in his mind, and the sentiment it conjures weaves beneath his skin, guiding his steps, his gestures, inspiring new lines and curves. For a long time, he freestyles, grateful for his stamina—that’s another thing he can show to Victor: how long he can do this, how long he’ll wait for a chance to see Victor again—and just when he’s finally starting to pant and feel the sweat beneath his tight shirt, he hears the telltale crick of ice parting.

He finds the direction of it fast enough—the same spot as before, splitting in hairline fractures like a swiftly growing spider web. Yuuri gives it a wide berth and he skates towards the shore, then wanders cautiously up around the side, where broken ice will still leave him on solid sand. 

Even once he’s thrown his glasses on, he can only vaguely make out what’s going on—Victor’s bashing the ice. Yuuri watches, awestruck, as Victor’s long silhouette thrashes against the surface, only to recede, fall back into the depths, and surge up to try again. 

For a few dumbstruck minutes, Yuuri does nothing but watch, his coat back on and his breath held. Then he begins to look around, wondering if he can help, and he spots a few rocks that might do the trick. He walks forward as much as he can, blades hardly slipping at all. Then he starts flailing his arms, hoping to catch Victor’s attention. The pink-grey blur pauses, and Yuuri gestures him away, yelling between cupped hands, “Move back!”

It takes a few tries, but finally, Victor seems to understand, and he swims away. Yuuri waits an extra minute, just to make sure he isn’t immediately darting back. 

Then Yuuri fetches the largest rock he can carry and brings it forward, giving it a weak chuck towards the hole. More cracks rocket out. With so many there, Yuuri doesn’t dare fetch the rock back, so he grabs another, then another, and on the third, all three sink down—the ice shatters, breaking off into a hundred pieces, some big enough to float and others lost to the water below.

Yuuri goes as far as the shore will let him, then gets down on his hands and knees, peering in until Victor reappears. His perfect face breaches the surface with a dramatic flick of his long hair, and it splatters back down along his neck and shoulder, a few slick strands clinging to his cheek around his left eye. His luscious lips give Yuuri a pleased smile, and he wades forward, all but purring, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Yuuri can’t seem to do anything but goofily smile. Victor’s every bit as beautiful as he remembers, and just being near that splendor makes him feel warm. 

Tilting his head, Victor adds, “You did well today, Yuuri. Some of those jumps must’ve been quite high—although you landed a bit sloppily on the last one.”

Yuuri smiles despite the criticism, a blush showing for it. He knows he isn’t perfect; he’s flattered Victor compliments him at all. He manages anyway, “Thanks.”

Victor grins wider, then lifts higher, coming forward to cross his arms over the ice again. “I hope you weren’t too sick after our last visit...”

“No, I got home pretty fast. The hot springs—”

“Ahh, the _hot springs_ ,” Victor interrupts to repeat, eyes twinkling. Yuuri can feel his heart flutter from that look. Or maybe it’s just proximity to Victor.

Without pausing to think about it, Yuuri blurts out, “Do you want to see them?”

And Victor lights up like a puppy who’s having its tummy rubbed—he thrusts out his arms, open wide, and chirps, “I was hoping you’d ask!”

Blushing all the thicker, Yuuri tries to oblige. He shuffles forward, ever-careful now, but Victor rises up to meet him, practically leaping out like a dolphin when they’re close enough—his arms dart around Yuuri’s neck, his face burrowing into Yuuri’s shoulder, soaking through but worth it. Yuuri locks around his waist, marveling at the sultry feeling of his smooth skin. Victor’s utterly bare, so Yuuri can’t help his reaction, and he’s glad Victor can’t see his face anymore to spot that expression. But he sucks in a breath and tells himself to get over it—Victor’s not really _naked_ , just... scaly.

The transition from his human hips to the silver tail below is _fascinating_. Yuuri stares at it as he slowly drags Victor out, and Victor coos into his ear, voice deep with approval, “You’re strong.” Yuuri gulps and tries to keep his head straight.

He doesn’t rise up onto his feet again until he’s shuffled back to the shore, and then he braces one arm against Victor’s back, the other snaking below Victor’s tail—and that feels strangest of all: a sleek expanse of shimmering scales. It’s not unlike holding a fish, only a thousand times greater—Victor’s tail is longer than Yuuri’s legs, and rainbows seem to sparkle across it in the late starlight, creating an aura of many colours. The translucent wisps at the end drape down in arching, artful patterns so much more complex than the way children of their village draw merfolk in school. If there’s any rule of the merfolk to stay out of sight of such people, Victor doesn’t seem to care. He holds securely onto Yuuri and grins as he’s carried away from his home. He’s heavy, but more than worth it. Yuuri realizes too late that he’s wearing the wrong shoes for carrying anything, so he has to sit back down again a minute later, Victor draped luxuriously over his lap, as he goes for his boots. 

Victor watches in dry fascination as Yuuri tugs them on and laces them up, having to bend across Victor’s tail to do it. Victor keeps holding on and chuckles, “How funny you people are,” as though _Yuuri’s_ the strange one. He supposes to Victor, he is. 

“Maybe,” Yuuri admits, “But you need feet to skate.”

“True,” Victor hums, then teases, “and perhaps it’s good I don’t—if I were able to skate with you, you’d be shaking from the competition.”

Yuuri smiles but privately thinks he’d just find it inspiring. Victor seems to have a natural grace—he’d probably be the best dancer, in any shape or form, the human world’s ever seen.

Instead, he’s a gem hidden away in the bottom of a lake, and Yuuri feels inordinately blessed by the time he’s finished with his boots. When he pushes back up, Victor reaches for his skates, but Yuuri decides, “Leave them. It’s a small village—I don’t think anyone will take them.” And he can’t carry even that little extra bit of weight all the way home, but he doesn’t want to say that.

Victor doesn’t ask how far ‘home’ is. He just clings to Yuuri’s neck, has a sharp hitch of breath after surveying the world all around him, then breathes, “Yuuri... take me away.”


	4. Swan

He can see them out his bedroom window, on the second story where they aren’t eye-level with him and don’t seem to notice. His sister and his friends—what few he has—all crowd around the merman in their midst, practically falling all over him—but Yuuri can’t blame them for that. He does too. It’s not their fault Victor’s so... _gorgeous._

Victor’s intoxicating, and seeing him laugh and talk and smile along with Yuuri’s family is hugely endearing, even if shallow tendrils of jealousy do twist in Yuuri’s stomach. He watches them anyway, staring down as Mari tosses an arm around Victor’s broad shoulders. Minako leans in on his other side, her long air draping down is abdomen. Victor grins at them both, and the conversation smoothly continues. Yuuri’s mostly drowned it out. It’s all questions, of course, and the understandable shock that Victor even exists, and then thinly veiled flirtations that Victor answers, paradoxically both clueless and sensual. Yuuri understands how they’re all smitten.

It’ll do well for the inn, he thinks, to have this attraction: people will come from far and wide, far beyond their little village, to see the mermaid of the lake. Yuuri’s family will do well for it. And Victor, he thinks, will do fair enough too—he seems to revel in the attention. 

But eventually, the night grows ever darker, and people do flitter away. Yuuko has to return to her husband and children, and Yuuri’s mother comes in to call his sister away. Minako only leaves when Victor starts yawning and making obvious allusions to sleep, until finally, the hot springs are free again, and Victor’s their only occupant, luxuriously laid out with the translucent end of his tail peaking over the other side. Yuuri’s still there, because he couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

Then Victor leans back against the rocks, sighing, silver hair slipping deeper into the nearly-opaque water, half covered in steam. His eyes flicker up, and they pierce Yuuri through the darkness. A broad smile stretches across Victor’s face. He gestures for Yuuri to come down to him—Yuuri can’t resist. He doesn’t know how he ever left in the first place. But then, it’ll be easier to just enjoy _Victor_ without the crowd around.

He slips down to the hot springs, dually torn when he undresses—a part of him feels self-conscious, knowing his pudgy body will soon sit next to Victor’s toned one—but the rest of him is too eager to be with Victor again to care how he looks. Looking at Victor will be enough. With a towel wrapped tight around his waist, he makes his way out, and as soon as he’s through the sliding door, Victor’s eyes are on him. 

Breath caught, Yuuri strolls forward anyway. He slips into the pool, hyper aware of his every little movement, but still unable to stop—he drifts towards Victor as soon as he can. He finds a spot along the submerged shelf to sit right next to Victor, as close as he dares, so close that their shoulders are almost touching. Victor smiles so warmly at him. 

But Victor plucks at the towl under the water—Yuuri can feel it lifted off his knee—and Victor chuckles, “What are you wearing this for?” At Yuuri’s blush, he quips, “You aren’t that chubby,” which just makes Yuuri groan. He only hopes mermen can’t read minds. He hopes that’s not what Victor thinks of him, though Victor seems the type to just blurt things out. 

Victor shifts closer, so that they really do bump together, Victor’s vivid skin now flushed and _hot_. Victor purrs to him, “I like you just the way you are,” and ducks in to nuzzle Yuuri’s cheek like some stray puppy that wants to be pet. Yuuri startles but doesn’t pull away. He wishes he’d paid more attention to the merfolk legends in town—are they always cuddly, or is Victor an exception? Or is Victor just like this with _Yuuri_? 

Victor rests his head on Yuuri’s shoulder and sighs, “This place is really nice.”

Yuuri mumbles, “Thanks.” And he wishes he could say more, but he’s too busy internally melting over the way it feels to have Victor nestled against him. 

They stay like that for a moment, Yuuri pretending to examine the stars but really just soaking in the vision of Victor in the corner of his eye. Then Victor fidgets again, his tail slithering past Yuuri’s leg beneath the surface. Yuuri shivers at it and feels the bizarre urge to lean in for _more_.

He turns his head to the side to ask _something_ , anything, except that when he does, Victor’s face meets his, and their lips brush together before he can stop it. He freezes instantly, and Victor presses in just that fraction harder, enough to seal them together. Victor tilts his face, aligning their noses better, and the next thing Yuuri knows, he’s opened his mouth and sucked Victor’s tongue into it. 

They share a series of long, searching kisses, somewhere right between chaste and fierce, tentative and all consuming. Each time they close their mouths, they wind up opening again, Yuuri even daring to drag his tongue along Victor’s bottom lip. The hand closest to Victor is soon covered in Victor’s tail, but Yuuri lifts the other one from the water, wanting to draw it through Victor’s hair.

They break apart before he can. Victor licks his lips, humming pleasantly. Then he settles back into his place, still facing Yuuri with his tail now practically over Yuuri’s lap.

Yuuri’s the first to speak, admitting breathlessly, “I wish you could stay here.”

“Aren’t I?” Victor asks, like there was never any question. He spares a glance across the calm water, over the rocks beyond and onto the wood. “I thought I’d stay until the lake thaws again.” When he turns back to Yuuri, it’s with a wicked grin, and he promises far too seductively, “Then you can come swimming with me.”

Bright red, Yuuri nods and mutters, “Yeah.” He wants Victor around for at least that long. For as long as possible. And if he can’t have that, he’ll at least visit, so they can talk and get to know one another and maybe _touch_ , and Yuuri can learn what it is about Victor that makes his heart beat faster than even skating ever did.

He closes the distance himself this time, and they kiss beneath the stars.


End file.
